We'll Wander Down, Where The Winds Sigh
by Insomniabug aka BabyBrown
Summary: His breath is warm against her neck, a wandering thumb slides beneath the hem of her jacket. Her body feels as tight as a fine-tuned instrument, the ache between her thighs begging to be dealt with. Needless to say, her plan goes off without a hitch. (Or the one with the stakeout make out.)


**Title**: _We'll wander down, where the winds sigh _(1/1)_  
><em>**Pairing**: Luke/Gail  
><strong>Rating<strong>: M  
><strong>Words<strong>: 1882

**Author's Note**: _Happy New Year!_ So, I'm not going to read too much into the fact that this is the second smutty fic I've written this week. But I hope you are all having a great holiday and that you enjoy these gifts that keep on giving. Title and lyrics from the _Spring Awakening_ musical. ;)

**Disclaimer:** The only thing I own is a filthy mind.

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><p><em>touch me, just try it<br>__now, there, that's it, God, that's heaven  
><em>

_touch me, just like that  
><em>_now lower down, where the sins lie_

-Duncan Sheik & Steven Sater

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><p>The stakeout is the culmination of two months hard work.<p>

There'd been a surge of forgeries in the Toronto area; passports, birth certificates, checks, _'who even uses checks anymore, Homicide.'_ While this case initially seemed to be out of his wheelhouse, two murders had been linked, so Luke's objective became priority; catch whoever was responsible and put them in prison for the rest of their natural born life. And as much as Gail was rooting for him, thrilled to be doing _anything_ but canvassing, it's also been mind-numbingly boring, when all she's done is sit in a car and watch a commercial building, waiting for something, _anything_, illegal to happen.

It's on the fourth night, feet up on the dashboard and Beyoncé streaming through her earbuds, '_handprints and footprints on my glass, handprints and good grips all on my ass,'_ when she comes up with her own way to pass the time; something involving a little less boredom and a little more excitement.

Naturally, she chose Callaghan, and made sure they were paired together on the next stakeout.

"I could lose my badge for this." His breath is warm against her neck, a wandering thumb slides beneath the hem of her jacket. Her body feels as tight as a fine-tuned instrument, the ache between her thighs begging to be dealt with.

Needless to say, her plan goes off without a hitch. It wasn't hard convincing Luke to engage in a little on-the-clock nookie, which, she'd _hope_ not, considering they've been fucking for the past month.

"For making out during a stakeout? Please. Considering what the rest of Division 15 has gotten themselves into, you'd only get a slap on the wrist." She bites down on his earlobe, hard, hoping he gets the hint to shut up and pay attention to the task at hand; the task of getting her off. And right now, she's not in the mood for gentle. It's been tiresome, this habit of his where he treats her like a fragile china doll, but she knows the roughness is there. She remembers back to when he and McNally were a thing; the women's locker room and Andy's tiny sports bra covering precisely nothing, the bruise-like hickeys making an interesting pattern down her spine. (Gail knows they were hickeys because she asked, Andy's face going an amusing shade of pink as she muttered something about date night.)

"Is that what you do? Make your own rules as you go along?" One of the many things Gail's learned about Luke during their secret rendezvous? He liked to talk. She wonders if it's just with her, or if Luke is like this with all his partners. But it's not like she can just call up Jo to ask, and God forbid Andy finds out about the two of them. She'd just give her that stupid, wounded puppy look, like she's never made a mistake…and then run right straight into Nick's waiting arms.

But, she doesn't want to think about that.

Gail's foot gets stuck between the passenger seat and the center console on her way to Luke's lap, and she bumps her head against the roof of the car. One of his hands immediately soothes the spot, and she feels the beginnings of that weird body flush she gets whenever he does something semi-sweet.

"I forgot how uncomfortable it was doing this in a car." She settles onto his lap, hoping he doesn't notice the sudden hitch in her heartbeat.

It's not that this thing with Luke is a mistake. The moment Andy dumped him and he ran away, he stopped shaving, replaced his entire wardrobe with plaid and flannel, and there was always that same piece of hair sticking up at the back of his head; in short, he'd become downright pathetic…and Gail's always had a thing for pathetic. Plus, he's a _great_ kisser. Attentive, tastes good, and he does this thing with his tongue that she didn't even know was possible.

"Oh, so you do this sort of thing often?" He's also a bit of a sarcastic asshole. Sometimes she doesn't know whether to kiss him or kick him in the balls. The steering wheel is digging uncomfortably into her back, but before she can complain, Luke's hands move down to cup her ass, pressing her closer to his growing erection. Pleasure shoots through her, almost painfully so, a happy preview of what's to come.

Kiss him,_ definitely._

Silence momentarily fills the car as her lips reconnect with his, tongues and teeth clashing together in a battle for dominance. His right hand follows the curve of her ass down behind her and up against her pussy, freakishly long arms and fingers making it possible for him to rub her clit from outside her leggings. A sense of pride fills her at the foresight to go commando. Normally, she's against wearing leggings as pants, but they sure do make things a little easier to get started without heavy jeans getting in the way. Desire floods her, and she's almost embarrassed by how wet she probably is right now.

"What about you? You ever do this in a car?"

"Can't say that I have."

"Didn't you at least do this as a teenager?" Her eyes flutter at the movement of his fingers, hears the cocky smile aimed at her.

"Does the back of a bus count?" She pulls back to look at him, and sure enough there's that smirk on his lips as he's fully aware of the effect he's having on her.

"Callaghan, is this your way of telling me you're a 'car make out' virgin?"

"That's classified information, Officer Peck." With an eye roll, she pulls his head back towards her, not disappointed when he begins sucking on the delicate skin directly beneath her jaw.

"Seriously, though. Didn't you have a car in high school?" She doesn't know why she's still keeping up with her end of the conversation. All it's doing is encouraging him to keep talking, when that's the last thing she wants his mouth doing. But it's hard to be completely annoyed when his fingers pick up speed, his tongue licking the flush on her neck. Her breath starts coming out in pants, and she's basically putty in his hands right now.

"My family didn't have a lot of money." She hears him mumble, feels him begin nibbling on her earlobe like he didn't just oh-so-casually offer up something about his past. Whenever she's grilled him for details about his family, pets, '_did you even have a goddamn childhood, Homicide?,'_ he'd clam up or change the subject.

"Well, you weren't missing much. It's super cramped and hot, pretty boring unless you had a creative partner." Her breath catches on the last word as he continues fingering her from behind, keeping up this _insane_ rhythm. That was another interesting fact she learned about him; he was really talented with his fingers.

"Plus, super stressful. I was always worried I'd get caught by the cops." She rolls her hips forward onto his erection, smug when his breath catches in his throat. "And that would have been doubly embarrassing considering a lot of them had standing invitations to Sunday dinner."

Without realizing, Luke's hand has moved from palming her through her clothes to sliding beneath the stretchy waistband of her pants and resuming their position, only this time slowly pumping two fingers in and out of her wet heat. Fingers digging into his shoulders, a soft '_oh_' escapes her as she begins grinding down onto his hand, rolling her hips backwards.

A change of subject, right on schedule. She has to give him points for creativity though; especially when this delicious pressure starts building inside her. With the aim of speeding up the process, mildly aware of their very public venue, Gail slides her own hand down the front of her pants, carefully rolling her clit between her index and middle fingers. The stimulation from both sides; her fingers on her clit, his fingers fucking her from behind, almost pushes her over the edge.

Almost.

It takes a bit of concentration and dexterity on her part, hours of previous solo sessions to know the right speed and force, but the result is definitely worth it. The muscles of her lower belly immediately start to tighten, her toes curling in her ballerina flats. She bites her lower lip, forehead coming to rest against his as the pressure mounts inside her. The car fills with her arousal, sharp and heady.

"Come on, Gail." He whispers against her lips, voice low and hoarse, coaxing her body to climax with every stroke of his fingers. "You got this."

His words inspire a rush of power, and suddenly, with a clever twist of her fingers, and a third addition of his, she comes. _Hard_.

As the waves of satisfaction crash over her, nothing else exists. Gail vaguely registers the way her knees press into the driver's seat; the smell of sweat and drugstore cologne permeating the air; his strong heartbeat pulsing beneath her hand. Ultimately though, her mind is blissfully quiet.

"How do you feel?" Is the first thing he asks when she regains brain function, well, _mostly_, pulls a napkin from somewhere and starts wiping their fingers clean. Annoyingly considerate this one can be. But she's still too blissed out to come up with anything snarky.

"Fucking fantastic." She manages, content with his rumbling laughter.

Since she's currently molded against his body, bones feeling like warm jelly, it doesn't take long for her to notice the erection straining against his jeans. So, because she's feeling the slightest bit grateful, and magnanimous, she decides it's her turn to help _him_ out.

Leaning back, careful not to press against the steering horn, which surprisingly hasn't gone off, Gail barely finishes unbuckling his belt when the comms crackles to life from somewhere in the backseat.

"Suspect is exiting the premises with what looks to be the case of stolen merchandise." Dov's voice informs them, and the rest of the team strategically placed around the building, of their suspect's movements. "Detective Callaghan, how do you want us to proceed?"

Luke freezes beneath her with an almost comical look of disappointment at the interruption. Reaching a hand behind him, he manages to find the walkie and presses the button on the side to answer, jaw clenching in frustration. Gail tries to suppress a laugh, his glare telling her she's not being funny.

"As soon as he turns the corner and is out of sight of the building, arrest him. We don't want to alert his associates just in case there's nothing on him."

When Luke tosses the walkie back where he found it, Gail moves back to the passenger seat. While she also shares his disappointment, it's a bit lessened. It's selfish of her, she knows, but it's hard to be seriously annoyed when endorphins are still coursing through her veins.

As the ignition turns and the car revs to life, Gail resolves to somehow make it up to him. So later, when the perp has been officially charged and booked, Gail takes pity on Luke's pathetic pouty face, and undoubtably blue balls, and brings him home with her.

There are no interruptions for the rest of the night.

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><p><em>Honestly, I don't know WHERE this came from...but I strongly suspect Beyoncé's influence. (I think I listened to her recent album, mostly YoncéPartition and Blow, about a hundred times while writing this.) Hope you enjoyed this and I'm always happy to receive reviews!_


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